


Bound to Desire, Bound to My Master

by LadyTheWarrior



Series: Devils In The Dark [2]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Hell, Hell Trauma, Post-DMC3, Pre-DMC1, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 08:37:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18442943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTheWarrior/pseuds/LadyTheWarrior
Summary: Vergil doesn't know who he is dealing with, until it's too late.





	Bound to Desire, Bound to My Master

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the "Devils in the Dark" series, probably not going to be too long, maybe I add another chapter later. This happens before Vergil turns into Nelo Angelo, which is very unfortunate, but I'm sure his stubbornness and pride didn't help much enduring all that torture by Mundus! (Gosh I hate Mundus for that!)
> 
> I tried not to make him too OOC but you gotta cut him some slack, I know what a badass he is but he's enduring a lot of pain in this and so... it might be that he wouldn't be exactly like he is in the games, when he's all cocky around Dante or Nero.
> 
> Hope you enjoy

At some point, perhaps years before when he was only a lost child, alone and scared, running for shelters in streets he’d sometimes imagine hell to be a place, like a kingdom. With _Mundus_ , sitting on a throne made bones and flesh, of those who disobeyed him as his demons danced around in circles and worshipped him just like a god while he held a glass filled with the blood of his enemies and tortured those who had sinned.

He’d imagine the Prince of Darkness to be a huge monster made of thick, dark blood running down his face, dripping off its chin with holes decorating every inch of his stinky flesh, soft and squishy but horrific nonetheless  with claws and fangs that could simply scatter human and demon alike; tear them into tiny little pieces.

He still remembered those demons, Mundus’s faithful followers that attacked their house, burned it to the ground and destroyed his life while the only thing he could do was to watch in horror, unable to either run or fight; A helpless child that tried to block out the loud scream of his mother that only lasted for minutes and soon faded away with the smoke into the dark sky, all the while thinking about how he had lost a brother whom he couldn’t protect as well.

He remembered those demons all cloaked in dark pulpy masses, armored with weapons unknown to his young eyes, some of them carried long shiny scythes and some of them had filthy claws, ready to execute as they screamed in joy, mocking their weakness, laughing at their misery and their helplessness; all because of a man’s betrayal, an unforgivable sin indeed. _Sparda_ , his father left to protect them yet, at that moment it felt as if he had forsaken them when he decided to march to a deadly battle with the king of hell that ended at the cost of his life.

Before today, even when the older son of Sparda rose a demonic tower to obtain his father’s legacy, he thought of demons to be all alike. Disgusting shadows, lurking in corners with decaying deformed bodies and thick white maggots coming out of their mouths as they rolled around him, demanding attention... oh and how sharp and fast he gave what they asked for. spinning around _Yamato_ to cut through them with ease.

Mundus was just another demon in his eyes when he fell down the edge into the Underworld. Didn’t matter if his legs buckled and his whole body trembled from his last defeat against _Dante_ or how the seemingly everlasting fall sucked all the energy out of him, he saw the three-eyed king just as another opponent, _perhaps_ a challenge but a demon, like the rest of them nonetheless.

_Oh, how wrong was the young dark slayer._

He never admitted though, not through the sound of his own screaming, he never said it out loud how foolish he had been. As the marble white statue before him, held a stoic gaze towards his broken body, he sunk his teeth into the flesh of his tongue and his bottom lip, biting hard to suffocate the piercing sound of his pain, swallowing down the pooled blood in his mouth not to unconsciously beg for the torment to come to a half, even if it is for seconds. Sure, Vergil lost. He didn’t defeat the Dark King but he could withhold giving him the satisfaction of his cries. Something, he was certain that Mundus longed the most. 

And they chained him to a wall. He lost track of time after a while though. In hell, every passing second felt like a year and in his state he couldn’t exactly tell how long he had been down there, surrounded by Mundus’ minions. Broken and beaten up, he didn’t even have the strength so much to move a finger, soon he realized making eye contact with those mindless beasts was the most alerting cue for them to start toying with him again.

It wasn’t like that he wanted to look directly at them in the eye, perhaps it was the deep-rooted pride somewhere down his own demonic heritage, that even in that state of not even being able to stay fully conscious, he still couldn't hold back a cold gaze at those that spat and cursed in their demonic tongue, mumbling berating words as if Mundus awarded anyone who was the most disrespectful towards Sparda’s spawn.  The urge was unbearable, Vergil knew he didn’t have Yamato anymore that he wasn’t at advantage there but he couldn’t help himself. His stubbornness however, resulted in more punishment.

It was like an invitation for them to dare and get closer to him. Ripping him off the wall with their huge claws and grab and pull him in order to renew their game. To torture a half demon wasn’t an easy task, even Mundus realized that he could last longer before completely falling apart and even though at first it made Mundus tired and angry, now it made him want to be more creative. The Dark King found this an opportunity to make the tortures last longer and more severe.

Vergil’s healing power helped him a lot but it wasn’t enough, his human side already fell like a crumbling pile of dust, giving up to the agony, suffering a slow and painful death.

They let him go for what felt like a thousand times already that day, as Vergil started to stand on his shaky legs, though they soon gave away beneath him letting him fall gracelessly to the hot ground. The healing process was slow and agonizing as torn up organs were knitted back together on their own and Vergil found himself surrounded by a horde of hundreds and thousands of demons. Slowly rising up, he readied himself to fight with bare hands, like all the times before, even though somewhere at the back of his head, he already knew this was pointless.

The same thing happened to him before and every time he felt like he could only kill a few of them before the hungry flames around him start to rise up, making it hard for his punctured lungs to breathe, making it hard for his tired legs to escape from the hellfire that attacked more mercilessly than the demons, threatening to swallow him whole.

The demons came again then and he found himself unable to break free from their thick tight circle. All dressed in black as they summoned scorched scorpions that leaped and ran with the speed of light. He managed to squash several of them but soon they crawled up his legs and bit into his torso, chest and neck, drawing blood and sucking into it like leeches.

He didn’t scream then, only grunted and panted, feeling as if life was leaving him by second as he looked around. He wasn’t even able to show resentment with his pained feature. The demons were laughing, enjoying his weakness, showing off their supremacy over him.

_To them, he was just only a mere human._

As he fell onto a knee, the scorpions disappeared; burring themselves either under his skin or into the ground and the demons stepped closer. They starting poking his chest with blades which he only let out disgruntled sounds in response, waving his arm but not powerful enough to push them away. They took the opportunity to take his arm instead, twisting it behind his back and grasping a handful of his now dirty white hair and pulling it back hard until he opened his mouth unknowingly in a soundless shout. One of them pushed his hand down his throat then, opening it wider as it positioned itself above Vergil, opening its own mouth. The sound of gurgling coming up from the demon’s throat, made Vergil want to lift his leg and kick it in the stomach but he was too tired and the clutch on his hair was too tight to break free but before he could think of another way to fight a burning pain in his mouth, throat and gullet overtook him.

Only then the tight grasp on his hair loosened and Vergil fell forward on four, clawing at his own throat, trying to spit out the green acidic liquid that the demon just puked in his mouth. He felt his stomach constricting, churning and protesting at the unfamiliar and poisonous liquid as he started to vomit. Despite his stomach being empty, he vomited out most of the green gooey substance, but most of it was blood, dark thick blood that started to pool around him. It sure felt like it was only a matter of time before he threw up all his vital organs as well but hopefully, that stopped after a few seconds and Vergil felt his eyelids getting heavy as he dropped on the ground. He could sense scars forming around his mouth and on his throat, it hurt.

It hurt more intensely than anything he had experienced before. The stinging feel of water then forming at the corner of his eyes, made him blink rapidly, he didn’t want Mundus or his abominations think he was crying, _he wasn’t_ , it was only his stupid human form, getting the better of him.

It wasn’t the worse part though, as he lay on the ground, trying to breathe through the charred throat, he felt burning arms snaking around his torso and legs. He was too weak to turn around to see what they were doing but by the time, he found enough strength to roll his eyes, he jolted upright at the sound of fabric tearing apart, but soon he was pinned down to the ground on his back again. He found himself, pathetically wriggling beneath the hands and arms of demons that tried to strip him.

“No…” His throat still hurt and his voice was hoarse and strange to his own ears. “NO!” he tried to yell but only coughed vigorously in the attempt, choking up on the blood that was already welled up in his throat. But he didn’t stop, kicking and punching aimlessly, “Let me go… let me go… “ the demons' hands didn’t stop as they ripped off his already faded shirt, exposing his bare chest, “ LET ME GO!” it felt as if something had already fallen off his throat, he could sense a ripped flesh hanging loosely, the blood not ceasing to run down his chest as the demons discarded his pants, stripping him completely, still not letting go of his hands and legs.

He tried not to look at himself, his gaze locked to every demon. He would tear them apart, Yamato would be too good for them, he would tear them with his own hands, limb by limb and then… he looked aside at the statue, the coward so-called prince of darkness, he would make him pay for everything he had done to him and to his family—

The sudden excruciating pain tore through his stomach, brought his attention back to the demons. He watched them with widened eyes as they dug their claws and teeth in his skin, biting into flesh. A scream caught in his throat as the silver tip of their claws pierced deep into his vital organs, his kidney, liver, and heart and gorged on the blood seeping from his opened wounds. His breathing quickened as they continued, penetrating, taunting in unknown languages and cackling.  Their voices made his head spin around in all sorts of pain.

He felt his blood boiling, his body aching in anger, the ability to kill suddenly coming to sight as the thick wings of his devil trigger broke out of his shoulder in a sudden jerk and he let a roaring sound erupt from his lungs. The demons scattered as he swung around, ripping off their heads with his extended claws, furiously slashing at them, ripping, tearing. Blood splashed, falling down on his demonic horn like raindrops covering his blue-ish form as body parts were strewn about the floor.

Demons, now very few left, were frightened as they stepped back, bringing up their blades, blocking every attack but to no avail as in a final blow, Vergil smacked their heads with his paws, blasting them over the nearby rocks and into the dirt.

Then he stopped, staggering, the blue energy around him buzzing like frozen lightning as he turned, his glowing eyes fixed on the statue, as he put one foot in front of the other and with great force, tore apart from the ground below into the blackened sky and lunged forward –

Only to crash down into the bloodied mud before he could even reach the statue, his eyes widened in horror. _Pure terror_ as the blue energy faded, utterly leaving his body, his eyes fell on a red glowing blade—buried to the hilt in his belly, his hands grabbed the blade, trying to pull it out as he took a step forward and before he knew it another one penetrated deeply into his right shoulder and then the left, in a brief moment the same happened to the legs as he knelt before the statue.

Weak, scared and exposed in and out, Vergil felt panic along with an agonizing pain clutching at his heart, his eyes traveled down to detect blood dripping from his chest where another crimson blade now buried deep in his own flesh. He looked up, not really seeing but realizing, _there was no fight in him. No power._

 ** _“Do you still wish for more fear, son?”_** the deep and coarse sound erupted from somewhere in the statue. It was loud and echoed from all corners. Vergil could see in between half-lidded eyes movement nearby but he couldn’t tell from exactly where it was coming. **_“For more pain?”_**  the voice now came from inside his head, echoing sharply in his ears. **_“We shall dance until the eternity if you’d want,”_** it was mocking **_“ I’ll never get tired of watching a traitor’s punishment_** ,” chuckling darkly, it said, **_“ I can make you wish you were never born!”_** the exclamation bombed between the dark walls as the half-demon fell down on the ground, watching the world blacking out. His body long given up to the exhaustion of blood loss, he could still hear the voice as his mind too succumbed to the darkness. 

**_“I can grant you power.”_ **


End file.
